Never
by Seiichi-Le
Summary: Gaara's tired of this sick game they play, but he wouldn't give it up for anything. Shonen ai/Yaoi, dark themes. Enjoy.


This one involves shonen ai/yaoi and dark themes. I don't know what else to say here so… go forth and read.

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There was this murderous rage in me that would build up so blindly that I would lose all control. This insatiable desire for blood was so overwhelming, I was sure that whatever was left of my sanity would disappear. And I was okay with that. If my deepest desires came to fruition, I was willing to lose everything about me.

Because, let's face it, there really isn't much to me. I'm not as complex as my siblings believe. I may not be the easiest person to read, but I'm not that difficult to understand. Unloved, untouched, undesirable, those are the words that can define my childhood, my very existence. So in retaliation, I try to make it so that there isn't anyone there for me to yearn for their love or touches. If there isn't anyone, I won't feel like I'm missing out. Simple, isn't it?

Kill after kill, each life that passed by me slowly weighed down on me. There was no guilt from the act, but it was tiring, dull even. It was too commonplace that killing was becoming second nature - I didn't even have to think about it anymore. It was the only thing in my life that actually made me feel somewhat human, as twisted as that is. When the madness was running through me as I watched the last breaths being taken from my victims, for a moment, there's a rush of something indescribable. It's almost like a torrent of fresh air or a feeling of free falling. But now, that emotion is no longer present and the inhumanity erodes at my insides.

Then he came along and it all became interesting again. I wanted to see his blood spill, to bathe in the shower of his blood, to watch it escape him from my doing, to witness the life drip slowly from his flesh and his eyes. I was intrigued at how he would look with death gripping at his throat. I was entranced by my fantasies of all the different ways I could do it. His death could be quick and silencing or slow and agonizing. I could feel the pleasure of killing on the edge of my fingers again.

However it would be done, all I knew was that I wanted it to be done. Everyone could easily see how much I wanted to end that Uchiha's life, but everyone misunderstood - even me. He was a rival unlike any other. His strength was deceiving from his looks, his heritage being the only indication for such potential. He was fast, powerful, intelligent and flawless in his style. His arrogance was maddening and his self-absorbed attitude only added to this overpowering desire. He was beautiful, as well. He was beautiful in an untouchable way like a polished blade. His nearly flawless skin never gave away the hours he spent training alone or the battles he fought. And his eyes, even without the sharingan, could bring out the worst in people. Everyone's selfish desires to become him, be with him, or just to be looked upon by him.

If only to show a moment of his weakness, I would kill him. To satisfy my own selfish desires, I would kill him.

But I won't - I can't. Because _he_ doesn't want me to, his eyes tell me not to. Those endless blue eyes filled with too much. Unlike the Uchiha, his eyes never tell a lie. His eyes are overwhelming with words and thoughts, much too open for people like us. His honesty burns in my throat and his innocence is suffocating. He's beautiful as well, so purely beautiful that I want to devour him. I want to take him and strip away all the layers he's wrapped in if only to find the demon within. He's not so different from me, but he's entirely different from me. Where in our paths did we stray from one another? Why do I have this uncontrollable urge to kill and he has this compassion that knows no bounds?

And the way he looks at me is in such a way that, for once, I feel as if I've done something wrong. The way he looks at me is kind and cruel. Because his eyes draw me in as much as they push me away. There's a boundary between us, but it's more like shackles to my wrists. As much as I pull closer, there's only so far I can go. And he stand there with all the space in the world yet he doesn't budge an inch. He knows, and yet he keeps me confined to these rules of his. He knows, but in the end, he doesn't give a damn about me. This is the true torture, I feel.

He doesn't look at the Uchiha in the same way. When his eyes find themselves locked onto the prodigy, I can't help the bloodlust that curdles in the pit of my stomach. Because the way he looks at him is heartbreaking. He wants to take apart the other, only to put the pieces back together. He wants to scream at him, to hold him, to punch him to kiss him, anything to let the Uchiha know that he's not alone. But most of all, he wants his existence to be acknowledged. He wants the Uchiha to recognize his presence, whether bad or good. He desires nothing more than to be seen. The way he looks at the Uchiha almost mimics the way I look at him. And he knows it, too.

And the Uchiha isn't so clueless as to be unaware of the looks he receives from the blonde. He knows the depths of Naruto's "friendship" for him. And instead of disgust, he's amused, pleased even. He receives similar looks from men and women alike, varying in ages. There's something so utterly desirable about him, he's definitely no stranger to lust. Because in the end, that's all it is. Some childish need to have something so perfect, so beautiful, not knowing how truly broken it is. But when Naruto looks in his direction, the Uchiha's face changes, so slightly that unless you were looking for it, you would never notice it. I was watching so intently, I noticed. His eyes aren't as lifeless and his posture isn't as rigid. There's an air about him that is almost welcoming - almost. But it's enough. Because Naruto's looks for him aren't dirty. Naruto's expression is disgustingly honest. Naruto doesn't see the name, doesn't see the potential, doesn't see the history. All he sees is Sasuke, the broken soul sinking deeper into the darkness. And that look of his makes you feel naked.

It angers him, as much as it angers me. Naruto, no matter how many times he's beaten down, has managed to creep into his heart, no matter how shallow. And the Uchiha hates himself, but he hates the blonde more. He hates him enough to want to kill him. I can see it. I am so familiar with murderous intent, after all. There is no room for weakness if you're an Uchiha, it seems. So instead of accepting Naruto, he pushes him away. He stabs at the kindness the blonde shows him, steps on it, destroys it. And Naruto's love? He tosses it aside and spits on it. And no matter how much it hurts, Naruto smiles at him. He smiles in such a breathtakingly sad way, it's dangerous. How much more will he be able to take before it's too much? Each time the Uchiha pushes him to the ground, I wonder if Naruto will be able to pick himself up. It's killing him and he's tired.

But no matter how many times Naruto tries to turn away, his body just keeps turning and he's right back where he started. The Uchiha could burn him, scratch him, rape him, and Naruto will always forgive him. There is so much tainted love that he's well past the shame. He's so far gone for the Uchiha, he has no time to see me. He has no time to look my way and notice that I'm watching him.

And that's the cruelest part of all. Because when he looks at me, he's not quite looking. When he's kissing me, I'm not here. When he's holding me, I'm not the one trembling. His words are calming and I know deep down he wishes it were me that resides deep in his heart. As much as me, he wants to erase the past and those hopeless looks and start anew. So he'll whisper in my ear, "let's play pretend" until the morning comes.

We play this sick game, over and over again. Our hearts are merely toys, mended together only to be broken again with the rising sun. It's his warmth I feel around me and his sweat I can taste on my tongue. It's his deep breaths mixed in with moans and pleasure singing sweetly into my ears. It's his lips leaving behind chills on my flesh. It's his body driving my body to its limit, letting me slip into a delusion if only for that moment. But his eyes are not mine. They're covered in that putrid blindfold that begins this game of ours.

I can whisper his name in my voice all I want. "Naruto."

But I will never hear my name. "Sasuke."

And it's in this moment that my thoughts turn. And the demon within me stirs to life and the craving for blood settles thickly on my tongue. I treat Naruto unkindly then, and the bruises start to show. If nothing else, I want him to feel alive, even if it's through pain. And he understands, his tears trickle out in satisfaction. In this moment where only the two of us exist, he can breathe again. I let my anger swell inside him. But it's not enough, it's never enough.

When our beating hearts settle down and the euphoria subsides, there's nothing but silence. Then there's shame, pity and a bond between us that cannot be broken once the realization hits. When it comes down to it, Naruto and I aren't so different - we're looking for that feeling that let's us know that there is some humanity left within us.

I reach over and untie the blindfold, hesitating before I let the fabric fall. And his melted blue eyes slowly harden again because the fantasy is truly over. He tries but fails to smile. Instead, he apologizes so sincerely, I want to hurt him. And he gets up, dresses himself and leaves.

In this moment, I want nothing more than to kill that damn Uchiha.

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I may continue this since I have some sort of idea for a "sequel". I'm not sure though since I'm trying to remember exactly what I wanted to write right now… if it comes back to me more clearly, I'll continue. Thank you for reading. Leave a review if you want.


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